Rose Petals
by fractional breakdown
Summary: Shadow works to maintain everything as it should be. After all, he knows how important the chase is to Amy. Contains one-sided ShadAmy and one-sided SonAmy.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Hey everyone! I guess this is my first fanfiction up on this website, though it's not necessarily the first I've written. I randomly felt like writing a one-sided ShadAmy, but I wanted to take a different approach to it than other writers have. I understand our typical plot of 'she loves him, so I'll let her go to be happy with him', or perhaps our 'she'll let go of him and come to me'. Then we have the extremes – for example, of Sonic abusing Amy and crawling to Shadow (though if you've written Sonic like that, shame on you; go revisit the games since he doesn't act anything like that). In this one, it's just as unrequited, but I wanted to focus on the central theme of 'status quo'. Shadow has struck me as the type of wanting everything in order. This 'fic places heavy emphasis on that theme. Also, it's rated G for the fact it…just doesn't have any substance that I consider 'mature'. There is a reference to _curves_, yes, but I don't find that a teen concept unless it's made out to be one, and it isn't here. If this is reported as inappropriate, then I will happily up the rating.

* * *

"I'll get him this time!"

This has to have been about the thirtieth time this past week that that pink hedgehog has adamantly declared that, maybe more. I don't even know. I hadn't counted. It isn't any of my business, anyway; I wasn't attentive to her advances toward him at all. I don't care.

Right now I'm more focused on the fact that she's shifting in her seat and, therefore, jarring the table. I'm trying to draw, here. I don't savvy myself as the best artist, so I'm _certainly _not good enough to work on a moving plate, and that's exactly what I'm being forced to do because Amy can't seem to get in a good enough position with those binoculars of hers. I suppose I should be grateful that she's not the subject of my drawings at present – though she has been quite a few times. It's easier to catch her still when she's bathing in the sunlight, giving her doe eyes to the flora and fauna of the forest. Despite what anyone else thinks, I know that she can be quite serene so long as the object of her affections isn't anywhere within earshot. I'm not sure what she would do if she knew about all of the times I've just sat by and watched her like that, maybe disturbed. Maybe flattered. Who's to say?

It doesn't matter right now, anyway, since she's not what I'm drawing, and even if she was, she's moving too much for me to set an actual pose. _That _would be because Sonic _happened _to choose to dine at the same restaurant as the two of us. It'd been so peaceful and quiet before he'd gotten here… I guess I should've expected as much, knowing my luck.

"Oooh, who _is_ that…that…" Ah, he's accompanied by another woman again. Maybe one of Rouge's close associates; I've heard they've been keeping a close eye on him lately because they want to observe how he's able to harness Chaos energy. They would do the same thing to me for convenience's sake, but unlike him I had been designed to be a siphon and therefore don't serve as a viable choice as a research subject. Amy wouldn't know that, though, and they aren't matters for her to know about to begin with. She's just a _woman _and Amy would declare herself as so much better thrice over, so long as they're battling over the right to be _womanly _enough for Sonic. Never mind the fact he's never given any of them a second glance, Rouge included…

"Skank?" I helpfully supply, if only because I know she's going to rant with or without my input, and I'd rather join in to prevent from being on the business end of ignorance accusations. Technically, I usually _am _ignoring her when she's like this, if only because she devolves into a mindless Sonic fangirl whenever he's present. Really, I promise she's a pleasant girl otherwise, but right now it's best to just go along with it until he…rejects her, for like the billionth time.

Apparently my answer had been the right one, because now she's vigorously nodding in approval, those binoculars practically shoved into her eye sockets. "She's a _fox_, too. Could you believe it? A _fox_."

"So, a vixen." Yeah, okay, so I'm smirking.

And that has to be the _wrong _answer, because next moment I'm finding myself rubbing my forehead sourly – those binoculars of hers connected with it, and she's not happy. "Take this seriously, Shadow! She's stealing my man!"

Okay, whatever. "What's the plan this time?"

She leans on the table, now binocular-less, placing her head square between her hands. She looks pretty cute pouting like that, though maybe I'm biased as I think she looks cute any time… 'Girlish', as it were. So is Amy Rose; I remember her telling me that her pinkness was one of her favorite qualities, if only because it accentuates her gender so cleanly. The girlish features certainly help to make her full face light up whenever she has an idea, which happens to be what's going on right now. "I should dress up as a waitress." She snaps her fingers. "Yes, that's _it_. And then I can go over to their table and _'accidentally' _drop some of the drinks on that fox's dress! Brilliant!"

"And where, exactly, are you going to get the outfit for that one?" I remark dryly. Someone has to act as a reality check for her, as much as I like her head-in-the-clouds disposition. She's going to waste energy thinking of the details herself, so I might as well do the honors for her. "You don't work here, and it's not as if you're going to steal one from any of the employees."

She rolls her head onto one of her hands, discontent. Her legs are twitching underneath the table; I can spot them out of my peripheral vision. It might be a habit she's gotten from Sonic, since he tends to tap his toes. I don't really understand it myself, but then again, I tend to subconsciously look at my wrist. I don't wear a watch. "Okay, so we can scratch that one."

It was hare-brained, anyway. To be brutally honest, most of her plans are. She's more of a thinker when it comes to busting that blue hedgehog out of jail than she is trying to hook, line, and sinker him. I don't think it has anything to do with how dire the two situations are in comparison to each other, because from the way she speaks about it, _this _is far more crucial than any rescue mission.

"Ummm…" Tap, tap, tap. I wonder if she realizes she's unintentionally playing 'footsie' with me. "Okay, so how about you go up to Sonic and challenge him to a race, and then I'll be waiting outside, and he'll ditch her because he wants to race with you…"

"If he wants to—" I'm starting. Starting, but then she's staring at me, and that's more than a little disturbing. Being Shadow the Hedgehog as I am, instead of backing away, I stare right back. "What?"

"Why are you blushing?"

Okay, I think I want my foot back.

"I—I'm what?"

"You're…" She stops, then stares some more – and then her jaw slackens. Okay, has she finally figured it out? I'm not piecing it together for her, so has—"_No _way. Those races…?"

"Those races what?" It takes me a second before I realize what she's insinuating, and… Well, what the hell? "Wait, _what_? No, no, your toe is _touching _mine—"

Finally, _finally _she draws back. To her credit, she looks just about as embarrassed as I feel (though that's mixed in with feeling scandalized which no doubt she doesn't feel at all because she wasn't just accused of using the word 'race' as an excuse for other activities), and her head's ducking, her muzzle reddening, and probably if I'm not so busy trying to rub the name 'Sonic' out of my memory along with a series of disturbing pictures I'd probably be going on about how cute _that _is, too.

"Sorry." She pauses for a second as if thinking, then adds to that muttering, "Also, you better be telling the truth, buster."

I think my face looks rather intimidating because she shuts up right after that to compose herself and doesn't bring it up again.

"Right, right. So… It's a plan?"

It's not the grace of a swan she changed topics, but I might as well go along with it. It's better than talking about how I'm trying to steal her man when right now he isn't even the object of my attention. "Whenever you want to give the signal, sure, I guess."

She swerves in her seat (thankfully missing my foot this time), and she's staring long at Sonic – a pinpointed gaze, which makes me wonder why she needed the binoculars in the first place. Now that I'm thinking about them, I duck under the table for the purpose of grabbing them and set them neatly on top, nearby where I've set my pencil. Which reminds me; I haven't been drawing this entire time. I guess I was so focused on Amy's appearance and the fact she was touching me that I didn't even bother to continue drawing. Looking at her now, I don't think I'm going to go back to it until this is over. Maybe it's in the way that she's blinking expectantly, as if she's willing the air to bring Sonic closer to her, or maybe it's in the way she's purposely _elongating _her figure, in order to make her seem more appealing even though he probably doesn't even know she's here. She's always doing that, fixing herself up, smoothing down her skirt. She tends to wear the same thing repetitively, though I have seen her in other outfits at more fancy outings, like say that wedding we attended some time ago. They'd enlisted Sonic as some iconic figure to have there, and while I don't personally care for weddings the idea attracted Amy, and as I have been acting as her satellite lately I followed her in. Then she had been wearing a long white dress with a pink bow around her waist, along with those long white gloves girls tend to wear. Her dress stretched so that I couldn't see her shoes, though she reassured me that they were the best material. It didn't matter to me, though I do remember thinking that she looked good in that dress.

The wedding ceremony wouldn't have been considered my best ceremony I'd attended, but it was special nonetheless. I have a lot of memories of the past sixty years, but that would remain to be the clearest one if only because of what I got to do, and the same opportunity didn't present itself any other occasion. Amy had been intending to dance with Sonic (of course, as he's supposed to be her beau), but he'd been busy with Honey the Cat, which was fair because we knew already that Honey was engaged but her fiancé hadn't decided to show up. Because I'd been open because the only person (or bat, as it were) who would dance with me was tied up with that red echidna and Amy didn't want to miss the opportunity to dance, she decided to invite me as her partner. I hadn't ever danced before; never had been able to, what with being preoccupied with being judged by the government unfairly and on the off-times either working for them or racing Sonic. Amy didn't mind that at all, and she even claimed she thought that Sonic would be clumsy and flighty with it if she tried to dance with him anyway. She step-by-step taught me the dances that she knew, or as many that she could cram in that single night, and though I didn't prove to be highly coordinated she didn't seem to care. She had fun, and I delighted in being the source of that fun.

The source of anyone's fun, but especially hers… After all, it's her smile that keeps me here, despite how much I don't care for her little crush on my rival in speed.

And for now, it acts as an invisible leash once she plants herself on her feet, her previous brooding expression gone. Call it knee-jerk, but as soon as she got up I leaped to my feet as well, feeling somewhat uncomfortable as I had earlier today in those silly little flip-flops that she'd insisted on me wearing. I pin it down to the fact that my actual shoes are in disrepair, getting looked at by G.U.N at present. Without them, I have a hard time balancing on my feet, so Amy's been offering her arm for me to grapple onto whenever we've begun walking. How is Sonic even going to take a threat to race seriously when I'm wearing_ these_ stupid things? He had enough of a ball when I talked to him, mind sluggish from all the alcohol that it had consumed. Need I embarrass myself any further?

We're leaving my drawing pad behind, and to be honest I'm not sure if I'm going to have the time to grab it after we're done here. It's not as if I drew anything of significance in there, though, and all of the pictures that I need to hold captive are left back in the room Rouge lets me crash in her Club.

All it has is a rose. A single one, though I'd sketched one of the petals falling out before Amy so rudely jarred the table as she directed our attention back at Sonic. I guess I thought sneeringly at the time how she would like it if something she put so much detail in got smeared – like her wardrobe, or her reputation, but then I decided against mentioning it. After all, I don't expect her to get the significance of the artist's cause when she's chasing after broken dreams and a change from the status quo. It's a cycle, always has been, always will be.

But I guess it's a fitting analogy, because though a rose may look the same, it truly _isn't _once it molts even one of those.

ooo

"I'm going to destroy whoever decided that it was all right to throw a bucket of snow _this _late in January on _this particular street_."

This has to have been the fifth time this past month that Rouge has complained along those lines, maybe more. I'm not sure because the days have been blurring by for the most part and though she says much of what Omega and I do is tired, she's more of a broken record than either of us are. She sits around looking pretty, sure, but when one approaches her expect her to complain if one's not lying on one's belly in front of her – and offering jewels, that too.

At the moment she's trying the pathway which I can't even care less about, because the only reason I'm back here is because she'd told me a few hours prior that my shoes had been taken back. I'm already fitted in them. I have no reason to stay here, but I guess it's under obligation that I listen to a friend gripe every once in a while. I don't know why she doesn't just go find Sonic like everyone else does; he's a lot more amiable and, quite frankly, has more patience than I could, and that's saying something since he's a walking bomb when it comes to an explosion of energy. Figuratively speaking.

She's throwing her hands up in the air, which has become a familiar gesture I could just about imitate down to the expression on her face at this point with how often she's done it. "How is _anyone _going to visit if they're busy being buried by blasted _frozen water_?"

_That's ice. _I bite back the retort and use a shrug as my only means of communication. It's efficient with her, really. Amy's more management than that – but Amy's more management with everything. Not that it bothers me much.

She turns to me, folding her arms and glaring at me as if I'm the one who caused the Ice Age millions of years ago and I've come back to throw another one on her head. Once again, it's routine. In reality, she's not angry at me, but I'm the only one she's communicating with and, as a result, the one who's going to be the brunt of her frustration in the form of venting. Why do women always have to vent so much, anyway? Why can't they just deal with their issues, go home, and leave everyone in peace? Is complaining about it going to solve _anything_? "Well, whatever, it doesn't matter so long as I get my paycheck in from the big boys and people still come and cash in. Still, what are they going to use, a _snowmobile_?"

That sounds pretty entertaining, actually.

"Okay, Shadow, are you gonna sit there looking triumphant the whole night or are you gonna go send out the files?" Her voice is clipped. Remember when I said she's not angry at me? I think she is now.

"I was preparing to." They're over my chest and I'm clutching them tightly. I'm supposed to deliver them to Tails, though I'm not sure when exactly he and G.U.N started being friends. Regardless, it's none of my business and anything that helps the company helps my goal in some way. They've been improving ever since I joined their organization, and who am I to halt their progress? They need it desperately, as Sonic's pointed out. Funny, that. Sonic's the one who asked _me _if I did anything to aggravate them before… Even though he's well aware of G.U.N's potential incompetence. I still need to confront him about that apology.

I turn to leave, the city stretched out before me. It's covered with snow, but that isn't a problem because of the Chaos Emerald that's tucked neatly in my quills. What _is _a problem, though, is that I'm feeling a pressure on my shoulder just as I'm about to leave _what does Rouge want now_.

"Hold on, Handsome. You know, I've been seein' a look in your eye lately." That hand is replaced to her hip, and despite my deep concern with the fact her outfit is not well-suited for the general public, I am having to admire her curves. It's a simple admiration, an admittance of 'you look pretty', and that's exactly what she'd want, too; I'm sure she knows that I think this, because she flaunts it every chance she gets. That's just how she is, flirtatious and proud of her body, and while it's admirable it can get rather obnoxious when there are more important matters to attend to. Thankfully, it doesn't distract me to the degree that it used to.

Maybe this has to do with the 'look' she's talking about. I'm not completely oblivious, though for the sake of confirmation I still vocalize a, "Hn." She likes to talk, anyway, so I don't think she minds if I don't give her five sentences in response or an exclamation of how she couldn't know what she's talking about. Besides, she probably does.

No, she _definitely _does, because she's humming thoughtfully and she has her _own _look in her eye that indicates _knowing_. I can tell this will be an embarrassing conversation. Can I deliver those papers yet? "Got a gal you're looking for, hm? Wouldn't be me, would it?"

"No." Maybe if I don't humor her, she'll leave.

Yeah, no, it wouldn't be that easy. "Who's the lucky one, then?"

"None of your business."

Rouge doesn't look very impressed. "Oh, there you go again. Avoiding the subject – how many times have we talked about this?"

How does she expect me to keep track of that? I don't even _care _for this conversation whatsoever, let alone how many times we've had it. I want her to go away. "How many times have you gone against respecting my wishes? _That's _the real question."

She clasps her hands together, and as usual she's not deterred. Everyone I know is stubborn, and of course my best friend has to be the most stubborn of them all – though Sonic rivals her sometimes. He's dogged me not only for races but what my favorite color was (why do you even _care_?), what race car I'm taking to Transformed (because let's be honest, it's a good idea for me to give out my specs to the competition), and…sometimes how I'm doing. That's always been the hardest one to answer, and it's the one he persists with the most. Sometimes he jumps to ridiculous conclusions when I can't tell him, like making up stories about how G.U.N is using me as animal testing or whatever. I appreciate the concern, but I think I can take care of myself, and I certainly have more sense than to work for an organization that would kill me for even entering, thank you very much, Sonic. Still, it bothers me that I'm not able to _actually _tell him a thing, and it's not because I'm not okay, and it's certainly not because I'm shy, because I'm not. Somehow, I find it comforting to keep him at that distance, to allow for no changes in our relationship. I'm afraid if I answer, then our bickering, our rivalry, and the very nature of our interactions would change, and then I'm not sure what I would do. He'd go from addressing me as a mysterious figure who sometimes gets in his way and sometimes assists him to…a friend, to someone who has more behind him than just a desire to protect. I don't want that, and Rouge is lucky that I've allowed her in at all. She reminds me of him sometimes, asking the same questions. Much like him, though, I tend to give her rather vague answers or non-answers. Again, it's for the same reason. She's not _supposed _to know.

To be acknowledged as an individual instead of a plot on a timeline is not something I'm ready for just yet. But it's hard, it's hard because I know she's giving me that stare again, and I know she knows. She knows something, and all I need to do is say it. No pressure or anything, because it doesn't matter what I say; she'll pick out the truth. It doesn't matter, so why not?

I can't help but think of rose petals.

"It's…not important."

I don't know why I said that. Maybe because I want her to say it is.

"What? Of course it's important. You've got feelings, too, and you don't always have to hide them away. Hey, maybe she even likes you back, do you figure?"

I shake my head. That's all that I'm certain of right now; she definitely doesn't.

"Well, okay. You still shouldn't hide them, though."

"What's the point?"

"The point of what?"

"The point of sharing them."

Rouge frowns – yes, there we go, I've made a grave error. Some sort of social misstep, I'm sure. That's all right, because that's part of my identity, part of maintaining it. The less of that contact and the less practice I have with it, the better. And if she leaves me to go, then by all means, I will be safe. It will be safe and buried. That's where it belongs in the first place.

And that's exactly what she does this time around. She did it last time, so it's not as if this wasn't expected. She sighs, hugs herself, turns her back, same as before. She may've used different wording, but it's okay as it is. "Someday, Shadow," she whispers. She's said this before many a time, but I listen in, anyway, out of courtesy. "Someday you will need to rely on someone."

Yes, yes, I know. Something like that.

But how could I possibly rely on someone if the status quo relies on me? Quite frankly, I hold what we have together. Too much will change if I decide to worm my way in as so many others have.

I don't like changes.

I don't like it when a rose wilts.

ooo

"I'm going to find a way to ban loud noises in the middle of the night. Who is even awake at this hour?"

This has to have been the third time I've complained along these lines tonight, and too many times to count over all. I can't tell because it's been a problem for a long time – I'm plagued with insomnia, I go out to clear my head, and then I'm hearing honks and yelling and smashing objects all throughout the streets. Never mind it's difficult enough dragging my limbs around, sometimes one sinks into the snow and I have to yank it back out. Yeah, I can now see why Rouge was complaining so much earlier; there's no way she'd get costumers if all of them had to deal with this.

It's not going to interrupt the walk, though. It doesn't matter if my sleep is troubled _now_; surely after I get some fresh air it should be fine later. Rouge will worry about where I have gone, but we both know that I'll be fine in the end. The Ultimate Life form has been built to survive through a lot of things, including sickness, bullet wounds, and high and low degrees of temperature. Despite that, though, that doesn't mean I'm deafened to the sensation of cold, and it's seeping through to my bones now. I likely should've brought a scarf. Fore-thinking is not always a strong suit as I am more improvisational, one of the few personality traits that I share with Sonic the Hedgehog himself.

The traffic lights keep my mind occupied as I board the sidewalk, letting it take me to wherever it feels like taking me. Those lights are dazzling, and I sometimes find myself drifting to the subject of where they might have come from and how they managed to acquire different colors for them; I'm not oblivious to the light spectrum, but how are the very wavelengths of light changed like that by mere machine? Light illuminates and supports itself, and yet machine can support it too and fabricate it seemingly out of thin air. It wouldn't be the first time machine has done the incredible, as I am proof of.

I remember coming out to this particular part of the street during Christmas – I had been all alone and it'd been in the middle of the day. I didn't know where I was going other than I needed somewhere to go, away from the children who insisted on throwing snow into each other's faces, away from the celebration of G.U.N's militia as they toasted to another year of the world not blowing up, away from the shifting disco-lights that no doubt signified the passing of alcoholic beverages throughout Rouge's establishment. I remember this place because it has that one signal that's broken, always has been and no one has bothered to come repair it. Even now it can't make its way back to yellow, staying on either red or green. It wouldn't have been so important to me ordinarily, since what is a traffic light to me? I can run faster than any car, and my bike is mostly there for show, much like all of the vehicles that Sonic has (a few humans have said it's silly, but never have they cast into doubt how many useless knickknacks they obviously don't need that they buy). The only reason I remembered it was because Amy had pointed it out on the very Christmas day that I had discovered it.

She had been passing by, too, after yet another failed attempt to work Sonic into understanding that the two of them 'were meant to be together'. At that time, we'd almost literally bumped into each other. I managed to stop and hold her still before she could make contact with me, and she almost accused me of being a predator of assault before she realized that it was just me. It'd been a while since she'd last seen me and I'd seen her, but she recognized me. That 'while' did affect _some _things, but mostly on her end more than mine; she'd grown a bit and her eyes held a bit less of a wild streak than they had earlier in the year, and that'd told me she was starting to grow wiser of the little games each of us would play. I found it a frightening sight, that, but she never acknowledged it, and so never would I. Instead, she sounded just as innocent as she always did as she laughed, labeled our meeting as a coincidence, and then pointed at the traffic light that the two of us stood near as it tried to shift to yellow. She made no mention of the marriage celebration that we attended, nor did she of that other time we'd gone on a double date together and the two we'd been with had left – Rouge and Knuckles. It was another ploy of Amy's in order to make Sonic jealous, but it didn't matter since the two of us had been left alone to simply…talk. I don't know if it was then or some other event that told me there was more to Amy than anyone really knew or saw, but I'd heard things. I'd heard many things, many secrets shared only with candle light, and she'd bestowed them onto me and me alone. I doubted even _Sonic _had heard them.

Under the traffic light, it was as if we had never gotten to know each other like that. I appreciated it in some way. Everything remained as it should, and that's how it was. We'd talk every once in a while, maybe she'd rope me into a scheme, that'd be it. I could pretend that nothing had changed and I could remain within that bubble that had comforted me for so long. Maybe she had the same one, too. Maybe that was why she hadn't said it. And maybe that was why she'd continued to brush off every time my hands would become clammy, every time I had a difficult way around my words, every time – and I'm sure she knew – that I wanted to blurt it out to her, right there, right in front of me. What about that would she understand, anyway? She was just a child, always a child.

Except she's not. Or at least, she won't be very soon.

I think I heard something. Something…distinctly like…

I round a corner, and there she is, as I expect. How ironic, right at that traffic light again. Except this time it's not joyous, it's not a potential disaster waiting to happen on my count, and it's not, by any means, a happy reunion.

There she is, slumped against the wall, her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders are shaking, and you know what? I know exactly what's wrong.

And I know what I need to do. This is why I'm here. This is what these whole two days have been setting themselves up for.

I lower beside her, pressing my finger into her shoulder – which is familiar. She knows it's me. I know she knows, because she falls right in, and she allows me to catch her. She doesn't call me Sonic. She doesn't mistake me at all, unlike our casual talk, unlike a simple passing in the street. And the reason why?

Because I'm more than just an icon to her at this time. I've always been, but it's most apparent now when she needs me the most. No one else would do this for her. Do I take pride in it? I'm not sure if it's that so much as I know it's what I have to do. The obligation isn't one that burdens me; I wish to please her, and maybe, in some way, she wishes to please me. There's a difference between her and everyone else, and that difference has shaken me. It's become enough that there's no uncertainties when I'm around her except what she may've just said about Sonic. It's become enough that we're able to keep the barriers, but we're able to shatter them, as well. It's become enough that the temporary break in status quo is _okay_.

She's the one who deviated, not me. I'm the one who will put her right back. That's what I'm here for. I will make her life as it should be because I owe that much to her. It's because of her, after all, that _my _life is on the right path, the path that I had believed the opposite of. It took her to see that, so it takes me to see that in her.

"I'm sorry." Her voice is weak, heartbreakingly weak. I'm not afraid, though. I'm never afraid.

Instead, I bring her closer and say nothing.

"He—he," she continues. I think she's being vindictive toward my heart in some way, or someone is out there. I don't like seeing her like this… "rejected me. R-rejected me badly."

I don't feel animosity for Sonic, but that's okay because she doesn't want me to. Sonic doesn't like her, not like that. We both know that, though she likes to claim the opposite. Claiming the opposite helps her, anyway, so I go ahead and join her. It's not that Sonic is merciless, at any rate; but deep down inside, Amy Rose is a little girl with little girl dreams, and she's not ready to grow up yet. That's what this is a sign of, and I'm not going to force her to grow up, because the chase is what she knows. The chase is what she cares the most about, and I'm not the one who will take that away from her.

"I thought so." I sigh as I always do, as if I'm disappointed. I'm not, really. I didn't have any hopes at all to be disappointed over. The only melancholy could perhaps come from empathy. This _hurt_. "Are you okay?"

But no matter how much it hurts, she'll be okay. Because I can take that away, and once that's away, everything is normal again. "Y—yeah, I'm fine. Th—thank you, Shadow…" She sniffs, wipes her eyes on the back of her arm, and gives me an embrace of a different nature, the kind that sets my heart pounding. I see it as the reward for all of this, for maintaining things the way they should be. It's what I get out of it besides her loyalty.

"Hn." I look up at the buildings, watch the lights as they shift. Everyone is going to sleep now, and my fur is starting to stand. It's time to go. "We shouldn't stay out here. It's freezing."

"What, the Ultimate Life form can't handle a little cold?" she teases, and I smile. A real smile, the kind that only one other woman in my life has seen – and an image she has taken with her to the grave.

Maybe I enjoy it too much when I'm able to slip my hand down her back and she eases into it, so comfortably, like as if I've just sprinkled sugar onto the area. It's different when it's like this, and it keeps me spellbound, and in a way I guess it teases me for what could be if I follow what Rouge has been pushing me to do. I can't allow myself to get so sentimental into it, but I don't see any harm in enjoying it while it's there. Her while she's here, so close that I can smell her, and for once she's not wearing that silly Sonic-attracting perfume that she tells me she has. She went out here at night, the deepest parts of the night, for the isolation; and the isolation happens to be where I live. This is a treat only for myself. I don't know if she knows how much she's spoiling me.

I think some part of her does know that. A total opposition in her obsession occurs when the two of us are like this: I'm the one she's giving those quick glances, I'm the one she's giggling at when I misstep or when I try to lighten the mood with my own sense of humor, I'm the one she's asking those deep questions she'd only sigh about when in _his _presence. I don't know if she's doing it just because she wants to treat me or because she feels anything. It's likely to be the latter now while she's a child still, but that is all right with me. She doesn't need to do it, though, because just spending any time with her, whether it be listening to her talk about _him _or sit peacefully under the trees counts as any little treat for me.

Do I break down my walls, too? What a question. In a way I do by reaching out to someone else, a creature whose pain I cannot understand – rejection is not a thing that happens with me, as I have not made any offering to the one I have any actual interest in, nor do I have any plans to – but maybe I don't. I haven't said anything about myself yet. Not even in that date did I mention it. It doesn't seem as if she needs that information to be told in the first place, though, since her guesses are always correct. And I know she makes them, and I know she tries.

Her home is small, but I like entering it anyway, if only to imagine what it'd be like to take up permanent residence there. Such a far off and ambitious dream, and not one I'd be pursuing, but it's a thought. Rouge would miss me too much at the Club, but it's a nice place for cozying up in the blankets and drinking hot chocolate, which the both of us are doing now. I don't really care for what's playing on the television, but I don't need to because Amy's body heat is distracting me in a simple way. I wonder if mine distracts her, too, though she does seem enthralled with the program there. Maybe she just doesn't notice at all. It's not as if I'm trying to draw attention to myself, anyway, while she's the type who likes it, and not just from Sonic. I'd rather blend in, and that's all right, because I can silhouette her while she shines. It's been working well that way so far.

I think she's beginning to doze now. I need to place her back in bed, and then I will leave. It will end, then, and tomorrow will be the same as two days ago. She will come to me, and perhaps we will do something together, but ultimately her eyes will be set on him. And that's fine with me, because the chase is what she knows, and I know more than anyone how vicious and cruel it would be to rip that familiarity out from underneath her. She's not ready for it yet. She's not ready to make her own way, and right now she's content with following Sonic's. He's not a bad role model, either, even if he can get in way over his head. It's not a problem, not here.

I love Amy Rose, and I will do anything to protect her from what defeat could claim her until she's ready to face it on her own. I know each event changes her, and why wouldn't it? It changes me, too. Some day she will run out of all of those petals, and I will myself. And then what? I don't know if I want to think about it yet. It will come on its own. Maybe I will become misguided as I did with every other change in my life.

I think when it's over I will show her that sketch I drew and tell her that I knew all along. I can imagine that she will smile and tell me that she saw it already.

She sees everything already, I'm sure. That's how she is.


End file.
